


You'll be sorry

by Rosetylars



Category: Cricket RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angry Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot, Sex, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25876327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosetylars/pseuds/Rosetylars
Summary: Mitch told Pat he'd be home before midnight. He returns at 2am, smelling like smoke. Pat makes him pay.
Relationships: Mitch Marsh/Pat Cummins
Comments: 12
Kudos: 11





	You'll be sorry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [j_obsessed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_obsessed/gifts).



When Mitch had told Pat he was heading out for dinner then drinks that night with Shaun, Johnno and a few long-term family friends, Pat had thought nothing of it.

Pat offered to drive Mitch to Shaun’s place, since it was less than ten minutes away, and Mitch was grateful.

Before Mitch got out of the car, he kissed Pat goodbye.

“Mm, you smell nice,” Pat hummed appreciatively.

Mitch grinned, at that. “Thanks, baby. I love you. I’ll be home before twelve.”

Pat just nodded. “Have fun and be safe, I love you,” he farewelled, waving Mitch off as he got out of the car and headed into Shaun and Bec’s.

***

At first, Pat was enjoying his time alone. Since their relationship had been long distance for the better part of a decade, he always cherished every second they spent together. Tonight, though, knowing that Mitch was coming home in a few hours meant that Pat didn’t feel an ache in his chest while he was gone.

Cooking and eating dinner alone was a quick and easy affair, because it lacked the kitchen mishaps and distractions that Mitch tended to create.

He settled onto the couch after dinner to watch one of the shows he only watched by himself, because Mitch didn’t like it, and before he knew it, it was approaching 10pm. He cringed when he looked at the clock - he had meant to ring his family back in Sydney, but it was too late over there, now.

He decided to hop into bed and read a book, expecting to wait up for Mitch. He didn’t often have the chance to read - when they settled into bed together, Mitch was always showing Pat things on his phone, and Pat preferred his chats and cuddles to reading, anyway.

As the night grew longer, though, the novelty of being home alone really wore off, and Pat’s mind started to wander. As he was brushing his teeth, he caught sight of the bruises on his neck that Mitch had left a few nights prior. Once he had dried his mouth, he pressed two fingertips into one of the marks experimentally, and it sent a delightful jolt of pain through him.

The memory of Mitch fucking him open with his fingers, right after he had left those marks, made Pat’s stomach flood with warmth.

He felt himself getting turned on, and figured that he had two choices. He could either force himself to calm down, and potentially have a nap before Mitch got home... or, he could get in the shower and be _ready_ when Mitch got home.

He pressed fingertips into a bruise once more and decided to have some fun, heading for a shower.

He didn’t often finger himself open - with his own hand, the angle was all wrong, and it made his wrist hurt. Mitch, after almost a decade of practice, could do it expertly, and his fingers were longer and wider than Pat’s own. Pat groaned softly to himself - he wanted Mitch there, _his_ fingers inside of him.

Pat made do, though, and his pleasure built gradually as his body adjusted to the stretch.

He didn’t want to get too close, so when he was satisfied that Mitch would be able to slip straight inside without preamble, he withdrew his fingers with a regretful huff.

He decided to put on a pair of Mitch’s shorts - Mitch sometimes slept in an old pair of footy shorts, and Pat knew the sight of him in them would drive Mitch wild. They were obscenely short, because they had been Mitch’s during his stint playing for the WA under 18s. Pat didn’t bother with underwear or a shirt - it was approaching midnight, now, so he expected Mitch to arrive home any minute.

He was so turned on that he was aching, but the anticipation just added to the excitement and desire in him.

He decided it was late enough that he could text Mitch, and settled with a: “Missing you (and your fingers.) Ready and waiting. Love you xxx”

He expected a reply within a few minutes - Mitch was usually good with replying to his phone, especially when it was to Pat.

But when Pat still had no reply, fifteen minutes later, he started to worry something was wrong. He decided to text in his group chat with Shaun, Mitch and Johnno: “You boys still alive?” The words could have been sarcastic, but Pat couldn’t stop the streak of worry that ran through him at the thought that something had happened to them.

Johnno replied immediately, with a picture of the brothers. “We’re all giod Patty not one spew yrt I call that a win. Im babysitting there phones tho”

Pat squinted at the text to try and decipher its meaning. He sighed. The picture seemed pretty cute at first glance - Mitch and Shaun were both smiling at the camera, Shaun’s arm slung fondly around Mitch’s shoulders. Pat could tell from the look in their eyes that they were both pretty drunk, but that wasn’t exactly a surprise for the two of them. So long as they weren’t driving, and they all got home in one piece, Pat was content with that.

When he looked more closely, though, his heart rate picked up. There was a lighter on the table, and Mitch had a cigarette behind his ear. They had been smoking.

With that realisation, Pat’s arousal burnt away, and was replaced with anger. He pulled on a sweater, no longer in the mood, and turned the bedroom lights off, deciding to listen to a podcast to try and fall asleep. He knew it was a lost cause, though - his stomach was boiling with anger.

***

Mitch knocked on the door at 2am, despite having a key in his pocket. Pat opened it, and took one look at Mitch before sighing. He wasn’t going to argue with a drunk, tired Mitch.

“Missed you, sexy,” Mitch mumbled, leaning in to try kiss Pat’s lips, but he ended up kissing Pat’s chin instead.

Pat scrunched his nose in displeasure. “Clearly didn’t,” he replied before he could think about it. “Eat something and have a shower before you sleep,” he instructed coolly, shutting the front door behind Mitch and heading towards their bedroom.

“Stay up with me?” Mitch pouted.

Normally, if one of them had been out, they would enjoy a debrief about the evening together, but tonight, Pat was furious. Mitch could look after himself.

“Not tonight. It’s ridiculously late,” Pat replied. There was so much more Pat wanted to say, but he figured it could wait until the morning. “You can sleep in the spare room. I’m going to bed.”

Pat shut the door before Mitch could respond - mostly because Pat knew he couldn’t bear it if he saw Mitch’s sad eyes. They never slept apart when they were in the same city, unless one of them was _really_ angry.

Pat forced himself to take a calming breath. He was about to get into bed, before he realised Mitch didn’t have anything to put on after a shower. Groaning, Pat quickly picked out some underwear (the navy ones Mitch didn’t like, because the seam was itchy), a cotton T-shirt (one that Mitch didn’t like to sleep in, because it was too tight across his broad shoulders), and sleep shorts (which Mitch hated, because this pair had itchy tags in the back. Pat would normally tape them down with sports tape for him, but tonight, he decided Mitch deserved an itchy tag.)

Pat left them all in the main bathroom - Mitch normally liked to shower in the ensuite, because he claimed that the water pressure wasn’t right in the main bathroom.

“Your clothes and towel are in the bathroom ready for a shower,” Pat called through the house, shutting the bedroom door as he re-entered. He hadn’t bothered getting Mitch a dry towel - he could re-use the soggy one he had hung up incorrectly that morning. 

Pat knew he was being petty, but now that he knew Mitch was home and safe, he was able to relax enough to try and sleep. He was still furious… Mitch was going to pay, in the morning.

***

Pat slept pretty badly, considering it had been so late when Mitch got home. He was used to the warmth of Mitch’s body beside him, so the bed had felt too cold and lifeless.

It was half past nine when he woke up. He immediately reached for Mitch, only to remember with a pang that he wasn’t there. A second later, though, the anger flooded back.

He got out of bed and stormed to the kitchen in a huff. He got out two mugs for their morning coffee by force of habit, so he pointedly put Mitch’s back in the cupboard. It was difficult to break his routines - he’d normally take Mitch a coffee and give him a soft kiss as he woke up - but he was so angry that he forced himself to.

To top it all off, he made breakfast… for one. He had a plate of pancakes, fruit and syrup - Mitch’s favourite. Pat was in such a petty mood that he posted a picture of his breakfast, coffee included, to his Instagram story (because Mitch had Pat’s post notifications on, despite generally being the co-author of everything Pat ever posted).

If Pat had cast out a fishing line, Mitch went for the bait. Once Pat had finished eating, Mitch walked into the living area. He noticed Pat sitting at the kitchen island, and the sheepish look on his face spoke volumes.

“I… good morning,” Mitch mumbled, grimacing slightly at himself when his voice came our hoarsely.

Pat narrowed his eyes, at that. “I wouldn’t call it a good morning. I’d call it a really fucking bad morning.”

Mitch flinched, perching himself on a barstool at the kitchen island, leaving one seat’s space between himself and Pat. “Can you tell me what I’ve done to upset you? I’m really sorry, Patty, I hate sleeping without you,” he mumbled, hurt.

If Pat weren’t boiling with rage, he would’ve taken pity on his husband.

“Mitchell, what did you get up to last night?” Pat asked coolly.

Mitch grimaced, scratching the back of his head. “You know how it is with Shaun and Johnno,” he began uncomfortably. “We went for dinner at the pub near Johnno’s place, and then went to a bar in the city.”

“You told me you’d be home by midnight,” Pat pointed out. He didn’t actually care what time Mitch actually stayed out until - his issue was that Mitch had told him twelve, and he had been… _excited_ for him to return.

“I was, wasn’t I?” Mitch asked, confused.

Pat just groaned. “It was two o’clock.”

Mitch grimaced, rubbing his eyes. “Shit, sorry, Patty, I didn’t realise it was so late.”

Pat sighed. “You know I don’t care about how late you go out, but last night, I wanted to wait up for you. If you had’ve read my text, you would’ve known that I was _in the mood_ ,” he murmured.

Mitch frowned, and he reached for his phone immediately. “What text?” He answered his own question, quickly opening up his and Pat’s text thread. He read Pat’s message, and he blushed, eyes widening.

“Patty,” he breathed.

Pat just shook his head. “Save it. I’m too angry.”

Mitch bit his lip, beyond disappointed with himself. “Patty, I’m so sorry,” Mitch said regretfully. “If I had’ve realised the time-“

“That’s not all, Mitchell,” Pat held a hand out, silencing him. “You came home smelling like cigarettes. Were you smoking?”

Mitch looked resolutely down at the bench in front of him, not saying a word.

“Mitchell Ross, there was a dart behind your fucking ear in the photo Johnno sent. And a lighter on the table.”

Mitch met Pat’s eyes, at that. “We had a few between us,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.

Pat had known this since he saw the picture, last night, but it hurt hearing the words from Mitch’s mouth. “You are a professional athlete. Your occupation requires healthy lungs. You know how fucking bad they are for you. Shaun and Johnno have four kids between them. They should know better. You, Mitchell Ross Cummins-Marsh, should know better.”

Mitch had his head in his hands, by now. Pat was right, and Mitch knew it.

“To think I had fingered myself open in the shower for you, while you were sucking back darts with _fathers_ ,” Pat spat.

Mitch gasped at the words. “Patty, I-“

“Save it. I’m going for a run. Might run home to fucking Sydney.”

Mitch stared after him, dazed.

***

Pat was so angry that he managed to run six kilometres in under twenty-five minutes. By the time he got home, he was sweating like crazy. He pulled his singlet off and dumped it in the washing basket without thinking, heading to the kitchen for some water.

Mitch’s breath hitched when he saw Pat - shirtless, sweaty, his chest still heaving with exertion.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” Mitch breathed, not thinking.

Pat couldn’t fight the automatic glow that the words gave him. He schooled his features to appear apathetic, though, not wanting Mitch to think he was over it.

When Pat didn’t say anything, Mitch gestured to the fridge sheepishly. “I made you a berry smoothie with protein powder in it,” he mumbled.

Pat tried not to melt at the gesture. His husband was so thoughtful.

Mitch left Pat be as he enjoyed the cold smoothie. After that, Pat headed for a shower, knowing what he wanted to do next. After all, he still had a lot of unresolved sexual energy within him from last night’s anticipation. Plus, he wanted to teach Mitch a lesson at the same time.

After the quick shower, Pat put on Mitch’s WA training polo and the tiny footy shorts he’d been wearing the previous night. Payback was going to be fun.

Pat perched on the side of their bed, anticipation already building in his stomach. After nine years, Pat knew Mitch. He knew Mitch would be heartbroken that he had upset Pat, and he knew that the guilt would be eating him up.

So, Pat knew Mitch would come to find him - and he did.

Mitch came to stand just inside the bedroom door, not wanting to overstep and set off his already angry husband.

Mitch took in the sight of Pat, in his WA polo and footy shorts, and felt a wave of arousal. _Oh,_ Mitch thought. _So this is how I’m going to make it up to him._ His eyes darkened at the idea.

Pat turned to face him. “Sit down, Mitch,” Pat instructed.

Mitch perched himself on the end of their bed.

“Do you have anything to say?” Pat asked, voice low, authoritative.

“Y- yes,” Mitch stuttered, anticipation already building in his chest. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for smoking, and I’m sorry for you waiting up, all fucked open and waiting for me to come home and fuck you-“

Pat could already feel himself getting turned on, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. “As you should be,” he replied.

Mitch swallowed, unsure how much Pat wanted from him. “Can I make it up to you?” Mitch asked softly.

That made Pat smile, a tiny bit, but he bit his lip to keep a straight face. “You will make it up to me,” he assured. “I’m gonna get you so worked up you’re begging. Waiting desperately, just like I had to last night. And you’re not going to come until I feel like you’ve learnt your lesson. Fair?”

Mitch flushed, eyes dark. The idea was so hot that he could already feel himself growing hard. “Fair,” he choked out.

Pat took a deep breath. They were doing this. “From now on, you don’t touch me or yourself unless you’re asked to. Understood?”

“Yes, Patty,” Mitch confirmed.

Pat stood up and walked around the bed, so he was standing in front of the seated Mitch. Pat leant down and gripped Mitch’s jaw, giving him the first kiss they had shared since saying goodbye yesterday. Mitch reflexively brought his hands up to frame Pat’s hips, but he remembered the rules, and lowered them to his lap.

The kiss was light, but both boys were relieved to finally kiss again.

Pat stood back, after that, and peeled his shirt off, deliberately slow.

Mitch took in the sight of his shirtless husband - broad, strong shoulders, trailing down to a slim waist and hips that Mitch loved to grab as he fucked into him, whether hard and fast, or slow and saccharine. He appreciated the firm abs - ridges of muscle that he loved to spend hours kissing, nipping, and licking over, as he elicited the most delightful noises from the younger man. Mitch forced himself to sit on his hands so that he didn’t reach out and touch him by pure force of habit.

Pat cleared his throat, and Mitch’s eyes snapped back up to Pat’s face.

“Your shirt can come off, too,” Pat suggested.

Mitch did as he was told, pulling the T-shirt over his head, so quickly that he nearly poked himself in the eye in his haste to follow Pat’s order.

Pat knelt down in front of Mitch and hooked a finger either side of his waistband, meeting Mitch’s eyes to search for any sign of resistance. Instead, he was met with wanting brown eyes, so dark that Pat could barely see any colour around them. Mitch looked as turned on as Pat felt.

Pat coaxed Mitch’s shorts off, and Mitch helped, shifting so that they could come off. He was already hard in his briefs, and Pat couldn’t help himself. He leant down and mouthed around Mitch’s length, through his underwear. This had never before failed to drive Mitch completely crazy, and Pat got the same result today.

Mitch reflexively put his hands in Pat’s hair, moaning softly, so Pat withdrew his mouth, sitting back, leaving Mitch with a huge wet patch on his briefs. “No touching,” Pat reminded, making Mitch whimper. “Don’t make me tie you up.”

Mitch let out a low groan at the words, but he did what he was told, sitting on his hands once more as Pat resumed his teasing. The barrier of his briefs diminished the sensation, just enough that Mitch’s pleasure didn’t build towards an orgasm, but the sight and feeling of Pat with his mouth on Mitch’s dick were enough to drive him crazy.

When Pat was satisfied that Mitch was painfully turned on, he shifted his attention to Mitch’s inner thighs. Mitch’s legs were already spread, so Pat latched his lips onto his left thigh, nipping at the skin playfully before sucking a mark over the top. Normally, an enthusiastic, wild tug of Pat’s hair would encourage him to keep going, but by virtue of today’s rules, Pat didn’t receive those cues. He looked up to Mitch, questioning. “Alright?”

“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” Mitch groaned in reply.

Pat took that as a very assured yes, but he wasn’t going to let Mitch get away with his words. “Hey, who’s in charge?” Pat questioned.

Mitch swallowed. “You are, Patty.”

“Correct,” Pat agreed, lapping over the new mark with his tongue. He trailed kisses up Mitch’s inner thigh, stopping just shy of where Mitch wanted his lips.

Pat knelt up so that he could kiss Mitch, properly this time, licking into his husband’s mouth hungrily. Mitch let out a pleased sound, letting Pat deepen the kiss as much as he desired. It was desperate and hot, and it took all of Mitch’s willpower not to run his hands all over Pat’s gorgeous chest and torso.

When Pat had had his fill, he decided to escalate proceedings. He stood up in front of Mitch and dropped his shorts, stepping out of them.

“Fuck, baby,” Mitch murmured, now that Pat was exposed in front of him. “Can I…?” He opened his mouth a fraction, suggestively.

Pat couldn’t pass up on an opportunity to press into Mitch’s mouth. Mitch knew just what Pat liked out of a blow job, so Pat could feel that Mitch was holding out on him, giving him just enough to keep him wanting, but not enough to get him off. They both seemed to know that they were heading for something bigger than head.

Pat enjoyed the sensation for a while, his hand firmly in Mitch’s hair, tugging on it lightly, the way he knew Mitch loved.

When he grew impatient, he withdrew from Mitch’s mouth, and walked around the bed so he could lay down. Mitch’s eyes widened, but one stern look from Pat made him stay right where he was.

“Take your underwear off. I’m gonna finger myself, and you’re gonna watch,” Pat said plainly.

Mitch’s breath hitched. The sight of Pat, naked in their bed and touching himself, was almost too much. Mitch shifted to palm himself, but remembered Pat’s rules right before it was too late.

Pat hummed his approval, reaching for the lube. He knew his own fingers wouldn’t be anywhere near as effective as Mitch’s, but he wasn’t trying to get off, just yet. He wanted to see how far he could push Mitch.

He started with one finger, working it in and out of himself swiftly, trying not to grimace at the strain on his wrist as he did so. After last night’s activities, he was able to acclimatise to the stretch more quickly than normal, and he was able to take three of his own fingers within a couple of minutes.

Mitch’s eyes were glazed as he watched Pat prepare himself. “I can’t believe I could’ve had you like this last night,” Mitch murmured.

Pat scoffed. “Could’ve, but you were too busy sucking tar into your lungs, weren’t you?”

Mitch cringed, looking away with embarrassment over his actions.

“I didn’t say you could stop watching,” Pat reminded sternly. Satisfied with his preparation, he wiped his hand off on a tissue from his bedside table, and decided to put on even more of a show. He trailed his hands down his own chest, pinching and rolling a nipple experimentally, before reaching for his length. He gave himself slow, controlled stimulation, stroking and rolling his hand with practiced ease.

“Patty, please,” Mitch whimpered.

Pat opened his eyes and paused his movements for long enough to see that Mitch was beyond turned on. He was throbbing with arousal, leaking pre-come from the tip.

Pat himself was so, so close. It was time.

“Mitchy, lie down here. I’m going to ride you, and you’re not going to come.”

If Mitch weren’t being solely driven by his arousal, at that moment, he would have felt relieved to hear Pat call him Mitchy for the first time since last night. He did as he was told, laying down where Pat wanted him.

Without preamble, Pat knelt above him. “Okay?”

“Fuck, yes, ride me, baby, please,” Mitch begged. “Wanna see you bounce on me.”

Pat moaned at Mitch’s filthy words. He held Mitch in place, sinking down onto him with practiced ease.

Mitch opened his mouth to say something, and Pat was prepared for more dirty talk, so he was surprised by Mitch’s words.

“You know I love you, right?” Mitch asked, a little self-consciously.

Pat melted. “Baby, of course I do,” he assured. “I love you more. Come on, I’m meant to be angry with you.”

Mitch chuckled, at that, and the sound filled Pat with so much love.

“Can I hold you?” Mitch asked, about to put his hands on Pat’s hips.

Pat nodded, his facade slipping more by the minute. He lifted himself up and sank back down onto Mitch a few times, then picked up his pace, stabilised by Mitch’s grip. They had done this so many times that Pat knew just the right angles to get himself off on Mitch’s length, and he knew he was close. He knew Mitch wasn’t far off, either, so he helped himself along with his fist as he fucked down onto Mitch’s dick.

He came all over Mitch’s chest, and Mitch moaned with delight at the sight. Normally, Pat would continue until Mitch had gotten off, but not today. He shifted himself off of Mitch, laying beside him devilishly, grabbing both of Mitch’s hands and holding them down to the pillow, either side of Mitch’s head.

“Patty, please, I’m so close,” Mitch whimpered.

“Imagine how I felt, last night, waiting for you to come home and rail me so hard that the fucking walls shook,” Pat whispered into his ear.

“I’m sorry I was bad,” Mitch groaned.

Pat hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, you were bad. So bad. Why should I let you come?”

Mitch swallowed thickly. “Please, I’m sorry,” he murmured. “We shouldn’t have smoked. It was stupid.”

“Yes, it was stupid,” Pat agreed.

A tiny, desperate whimper escaped Mitch’s throat, and Pat had seen enough. “Okay, darling. How do you want it? Do you want me to ride you until you finish inside me? Do you want to fuck my throat?”

Mitch groaned at Pat’s words. “Wanna be inside you again,” he choked out.

Pat obliged. Happily. Within thirty seconds, Mitch had come inside of Pat. They both moaned softly at the intimacy of the moment.

Pat rolled off of Mitch, finally snuggling into his arms.

“I missed you so much last night, baby,” Mitch murmured, pressing a kiss to Pat’s forehead.

“I missed you, too,” Pat replied, melting into Mitch’s side.

Mitch’s lips quirked into a smile. “I might upset you more often if it brings out this side of you, though,” he teased.

Pat chuckled. “Baby, you know me. If you want something, all you need to do is ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> Really hope you enjoyed this! xxx


End file.
